


Inheritance

by Zarene



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-22
Updated: 2016-01-22
Packaged: 2018-05-15 11:56:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5784466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zarene/pseuds/Zarene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emma refused, even for a moment, to believe that the man standing before her was the Killian Jones that she had grown up with.<br/>This man was a horror story. A hard-edged killer. Children lay awake at night from Misthaven to Illyria with his name on their lips, laying in terror by candlelight with their eyes cast toward the shore. He was proud of his deeds. He was a monster. A scoundrel.<br/>And most importantly, she could see with alarming clarity exactly how she would break if she lost him again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inheritance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Subtle references to sexual violence and suicide.

Emma had always loved sailing. 

There was something about the smell of salt in the air, the gentle roll of the waves--even the element of danger--that made her feel alive. She had to devote the majority of her time to her crown--to her life of service. But when she got the chance, she would sit on the deck of any ship she could and smell the air, finding her own center. 

Perhaps that was a part of why she was so distraught now. 

She sat quietly, back ramrod straight, staring out of the porthole at the slow procession of dawn. 

It had been just before midnight when they had taken her. Several men-- at least ten--had snatched her from her bed and spirited her away to a ship that stood ready in the harbor. 

She shifted uncomfortably at her bruises, of which there were many. Most of them were to her pride. 

Questions still whirled in her mind, naturally. How had they gotten in? Who had they harmed? Perhaps the most difficult question to face was whether someone had helped them. She pushed that thought away before it gained traction. 

Normally, Emma would not have gone so easily. Her father had trained her with a sword, and her mother with a bow. But groggy, disoriented, and alone, she hadn’t stood a chance. The guards at her door were dead, now, of that she was sure. And they hadn’t encountered another soul throughout the rest of the castle. As they had approached the hall, with her kicking and screaming, someone had pressed a cloth to her nose. 

The next thing she knew, she was laying in a clean cell, with a cot and a small wash basin. Her captors remained nameless, faceless.For now, she had to keep her composure. Even if she could escape the cell, how would she get home? They could already be miles from shore. 

And so, Princess Emma, the heir to the throne of Misthaven, sat in her cell, treating her cot as a throne, and waited. 

By her best guess, it had to be morning by now. It was possible that no one yet knew of her predicament. The thought sent a cold shiver down her spine. 

At precisely that moment, a tall man in the colors of Illyria approached her with a grim look on his face. He did not look as murderous as those uniforms suggested.

At least, that is what Emma hoped. Those colors sent her mind into a tailspin of cold fear. 

Illyria was the realm of King Sammael, who was allied with Regina. The Evil Queen. And this man, who must be the captain of the ship, was from there. Illyria was a dangerous kingdom, full of dark magic and mercenaries. King Sammael himself was said to be involved in some of the darkest sorcery. It seemed that only the Dark One surpassed him when it came to foul deeds. 

Her people told sinister tales of the king, saying that he took his meals amongst the corpses of men he killed, and that he stayed young--for Sammael had ruled for centuries--by killing children and stealing the years from their lives. 

Emma was level-headed enough to assume that this ‘King Sammael’ was more than likely not a real person, and that the ruler of the kingdom just took on his name. No man could live for that long, or be capable of so many atrocities. 

However, level-headedness did nothing to dull her horror. She was going to Illyria, the home of Sammael and the place that had spawned villains like the Dark One, Maleficent, and Hook. They had spread out over the years, and even taken kingdoms of their own. But Illyria was where nightmares were born. 

It was almost worse than being sent straight to Regina, though she was sure that the witch had a hand in this. 

When things went wrong, Regina was always the first place to look for guilt. 

In that moment, staring at the uniform, Emma realized she was going to die. It was odd, the distant, cool calm that settled over her. Before, the hope that she had been taken by pirates or other criminals had fogged her mind. She'd had no choice but to hope. 

But now....her path was clear. She was a powerful bargaining tool. A liability to her people. Her parents would concede anything to see her safe. 

She had to die before she reached Illyria. 

The Captain walked slowly, confidently, with a swagger in his step. Running a hand through his brown hair, he looked down at her with interest. Another realization hit her then, somehow more sickening than the first. 

She looked back with all of the dignity she could muster, trying to ignore the sword at his hip and the stripes on his uniform. His lips twitched. 

“I know what you’re thinking, Princess.” He said, his voice low and gravelly. “But you’re not marked for death just yet. There’s still something you’re good for, apparently, once you get to the King.” 

He leveled another look at her, and she refused to even blink, holding on to her kingdom in her mind. She was the heir to Misthaven. She would not give this man the satisfaction of seeing fear in her eyes. 

At the very least, they would say she was brave in the end. 

The Captain ignored her glare. 

“Princess, I get the sense that you’re bright enough to have a few things figured out. The lifeboats are too big for one person to man. You can’t swim to shore. And help is at least twelve hours and many, many, leagues behind you.” He cocked his head and paused, as if waiting for agreement, then continued with a sour smile when she remained quiet.

“I’m not a cruel man, Highness. I just do my part. And the King said to keep you comfortable. We have a long voyage ahead of us and you are going to get very sick of this little cell very fast. So I’m willing to let you walk the deck if you promise not to cause trouble and you keep out of the way.” 

Far from feeling reassured, Emma felt more out of place than before. If they were trying to make her comfortable what could that mean? She wasn’t even going to be killed immediately, not with all of the trouble they were going to. 

It occurred to her, somewhere in the back of her mind where fear still ruled, that Sammael had no heir that she knew of. No wife. 

This desire to keep her comfortable could only end in torment. Was there something more they wanted from her, beyond her value as a bargaining chip? The thought made her nauseous in a way that sea-sickness never had. 

The captain seemed to know what she was thinking, “Yes, you’re a sharp lass. You’d best enjoy this voyage, I think. You might not be able to enjoy anything else for a long time.” 

Bile rose in her throat, but she clenched her teeth and held her nausea at bay. 

He whistled and a younger man came forward, gangly and more unsure, with a mop of black hair and eager brown eyes. 

“Now I’m Captain Green, and this here is Lem. Lem is going to keep an eye on you, bring you your meals, and escort you about the ship. He’ll bring you up on deck once a day and back down. If you cause trouble, things will get a lot more unpleasant, very quickly. Understood?” 

Emma met Captain Green’s eyes again and frowned, trying to channel the look her mother gave criminals, “I understand.” 

He snorted and swept away, leaving her alone with Lem. 

He shuffled his feet awkwardly, then leaned forward to unlock her door, “We can go up now, so you can get fresh air.” His voice was determinedly solid, as if he had rehearsed what he would say and when he would say it. 

“We’re making for Illyria, then?” Emma asked, hoping to get as many answers as she could. 

Lem hesitated, as if he wasn’t sure about his authority to answer questions, then nodded and stepped out of the way so that she could exit the cell. 

He then reached into his pack and handed her a cloak, “So you don’t catch a chill.” 

Emma smiled in thanks as she took it, having long since accepted the fact that she would be parading around in her thin chemise and insubstantial robe. Having another way to cover herself made her feel bolder, even though the cloth would do very little when it came to protection from anything but weather. 

“What is it like there?” She asked, following demurely while looking for something, anything she could take for a weapon. She had no reason to make trouble on board the ship--escape was likely impossible--but she wanted something for when the opportunity arose. What that opportunity would allow was something she didn’t want to contemplate until the time came. Not now, when she was in the open air for perhaps the last time. 

Nothing presented itself to her as he answered, “It’s a far sight safer there than it is aboard this ship, m’lady, and you’d agree with me if you knew.” 

Emma highly doubted that, but still felt compelled to ask. 

“How could that be? The captain seems accommodating enough. Even you must admit that Illyria is a...dangerous...place.” 

Lem grunted and paused on his way up the slender staircase, “Illyria is a snakes nest, Highness, but at least there you have some measure of safety, if you know how to go about it. Men will try to cheat ya’, but it’s expected. And criminals pay their due. Usually.” 

He grimaced as he looked out a porthole, then carried on in a whisper, “The seas aren’t safe, anymore. Out here, Princess…..Out here, men pray to the open air, and no one answers but Hook. These waters have no king. No God. Just Hook. If we escape his notice, it’ll be dumb luck. I’d be strung up for saying it too loudly, understand, but we all think it.” 

“Captain Hook? Of the Jolly Roger?” Emma asked cautiously. She had heard stories of his reign of terror, but he had never plagued her kingdom’s ships. In fact, she knew that her parents had managed to pay off many of the pirates who preyed on these seas. 

“That’s the bloody one. He’s been attacking us left and right, and not a single ship he takes on survives. He-” Lem cut off as the trapdoor to the upper deck opened and saluted another sailor as he passed by. 

He continued walking, then, and led her to the upper decks, “He’s a right nightmare, that one. Any Illyrian ship that leaves port is in danger. When he takes a ship, he ransacks it, then kills the crew, one by one, while the others stand in a line, watching. He looks into their eyes, they say, before he kills them. Like he’s memorizing their faces.” 

The upper deck was chilly, and thick white air, damp and misty, rolled onto deck. It was a wonder that the men could make their way about the rolling ship so easily. 

Emma was unconvinced, but with her situation, and the fog, it was hard to remain stoic. Somehow, talking about Hook was still easier than contemplating her situation. She felt oddly removed, as if she was watching events from an outsider's perspective. “How would anyone know that?” 

Lem chuckled darkly, “Because, Princess. He doesn’t kill everyone. He picks one man, sometimes two, from every ship and ties them up. Makes them watch everything he does. Then he tells them to send King Sammael his regards and puts them in a lifeboat with enough food to make it to shore and a pistol with a shot for each man. He wants them to survive, see, so that we can learn to fear him. And it’s bloody-” 

“Lem, enough with that Hook nonsense. This voyage is stressful enough as it is.” A tall man with bulging muscles called as he sat on an upturned barrel, repairing a sail. 

“Are you tellin’ me it ain’t true?” Lem demanded, putting his hands on his hips. 

“I’m telling you that there’s no point in befouling the air. There’s no way this ‘Hook’ is one man. It’s probably a large bunch of sailors from Misthaven--her sailors,” he pointed at Emma, “trying to scare fools like you. And while you’re keeping quiet, you can have the princess take a seat where we can watch her. That pretty face don’t mean she won’t slit our throats as soon as smile. Clemson said she tried to have his eyes out with those claws of hers. And keep her away from the edges.” The man gave Lem a hard look, then returned his attention to the sail. 

Lem grumbled, but turned his attention to cleaning, leaving Emma to her own devices after directing her to her seat. It looked like the small plan she’d wondered at, of jumping over the side, was unlikely to succeed. 

If what he said was true, she almost hoped that Hook would take this ship. Pirates weren’t exactly the company she wanted to keep, but at least they could be depended on for greed. Her parents would gladly pay any sum for her return. 

But escape was a distant and unlikely hope. In all likelihood, Emma had only days--four days, precisely--before she reached Illyria and whatever they had planned for her. 

Normally, Emma was an optimist. But here, in the damp cold, on a hostile ship where her enemies were so confident that they allowed her to wander freely, it was difficult to do anything but ponder her own demise. 

The crew was pointedly not speaking to her--probably by order--but they shot her curious looks, watching her as they could. She had to remain calm and confident, at least outwardly. 

The fog was heavy enough that if she made it overboard, they wouldn’t be able to retrieve her. But their orders were too fresh. They were watching her. 

If she stood, she was certain that they would be on her in an instant. 

No, she had to ignore this chance so that she could find opportunity for another. It would do no good to be confined to her cell. She had to make them trust her, and then she had to find a way to escape or, more likely, die. 

Presently, Lem took her back to her cell and she sat in the dark, thinking about her parents. 

Snow White, her dear mother, was probably beside herself by now. Emma cringed at the idea of causing her this much pain. Her parents had always wanted a large family, but they had only been able to conceive Emma. And now, she would die before even reaching her twentieth birthday. 

David, her father, was likely just as distraught, but trying to stay strong for his wife. Poor Henry, her little brother…what would he be doing? How would he cope?

And there were more people besides. There was her godmother, Ruby, and Granny, as well as the dwarves. Her best friend, Ariel, and her fiance Derek. 

Her own fiance, Prince Neal, occurred to her last and least, after she considered the myriad of duties that she could no longer attend to and the fact that she would leave Misthaven to Henry, who wanted nothing of royal duties. 

Emma buried her head in her hands, feeling the weight of a thousand lives, and wishing that she had a way to say goodbye. 

When her meals came, she stared at them in stony silence until they were taken away.

 

***

 

Three days had passed with no opportunities to act out, but the monotony made time blur. The highlight of the voyage had been when Lem had allowed her paper and pen, so that she might write a message to her family. Whether he would send it once she arrived, as he promised, she was unsure. 

In return, she had taken a few small bites of bread. 

The captain and the first mate had forced water down her throat, but she had yet to eat a bite besides those few morsels of bread. Emma found herself deaf to whatever threats they made. Without a weapon, she could not die to prevent harm to her kingdom. But she could make whatever time they had with her as short as possible. 

The hunger should have incapacitated her, but it actually gave her strength. She was accomplishing something. 

Emma had spent an immeasurable amount of her time staring, with spiraling horror, at the blank parchment. She had no idea what to say. This would be her last message, the way that they remembered her. 

And what had she accomplished? Who had she touched? What words were there that could encapsulate the depth of her affection for her parents? Should she apologize? Was she allowed to show them her fear, or would that make it worse? 

There didn’t seem to be words that could describe what she felt. 

In the end, she settled on speaking about the people she loved instead of herself. She thanked her parents for their love and support, for their wisdom and kindness. 

She begged her mother to smile, and to live happily for her. And for her father to take their evening walks anyway, and to do it happily, not mournfully. She told them both that her death was not their fault. 

She did apologize to Henry. She asked him to find a way to travel the realms, as he had always wanted. She thanked him for always being a believer in anything good. And to keep believing, even when it didn’t make sense. 

She asked Ariel to remember the happy times they’d spent at the lake by the castle, and to love Derek with everything she had. She reminded her of how smart and beautiful she was, and that if anyone could rule a kingdom, it was her. To please go and visit her parents to make sure they were alright. 

She wrote notes like that to everyone who had a place in her heart, all squeezed onto one piece of parchment. 

And then, with a deep breath, she let them go. She put the message into an envelope and sealed it, holding it tight to her chest and then relinquishing it to Lem, who gave her a serious nod. 

He didn’t notice when she kept the quill for herself. 

She still had no idea as to whether the letter would reach her family. 

With the letter completed, her purpose drained somewhat. She sat, limp, listless, staring at the walls or the open sea, waiting, watching. When no one was watching, she took the quill apart and made the best lock-picking device that she could fashion under the circumstances. 

She was destroying her weapon. This was wrong. Selfish. 

But she couldn’t give up. Not yet. 

Whether or not it would work when and if the time came, was another question. 

She heard a few more tall tales from the crew about Hook, various sea monsters, and the Dark One. Some of the senior officers among the crew seemed to know something about the pirate that the rest didn’t, and it made her wonder, the way they shook their heads and looked at their underlings like they were talking of something they didn't fully understand. There was a level of respect, even reverence, in their eyes that confused her. 

She did not want the end to come, but she needed something to happen. The anticipation, the helplessness that was building inside her, was almost more than she could handle. 

And so, on the evening of the fourth day, when she felt almost as if she might be best off jumping overboard and swimming as long as she could--if she could make it that far--the men on deck all started shouting, running about, and pointing. 

The fear in the air was almost tangible, like something she could reach out and touch, if she so desired. 

In the chaos, no one was paying her any mind, so she slipped to the side of the ship and stood on a barrel, holding some rope for balance. What she saw on the horizon gave her hope for life, but also tied a knot in her stomach. 

Black sails. 

Across the deck, in shaky whispers and quavered shouts, she heard one word, repeating over and over, like a trembling, heathen prayer. 

Hook.

**Author's Note:**

> I appreciate all reviews and criticism! Please let me know if I should post the next chapter. :)


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